Page 90 of Blow Down (The Plumber's Mate)
“Thought he didn’t like her?” I said, as Phil let the tarpaulin fall back.
“Maybe he was protesting too much? Didn’t want anyone to know they were involved, in case it was seen as giving him a motive for the murder?”
“So what’s it mean?” I asked, once we’d buckled up back into the Golf.
“Not sure.” Phil took a deep breath, staring straight out the front. “If it’s what I think, I don’t like it.”
“What?”
“Lance Frith has a cast-iron alibi for the day of the fayre. Multiple witnesses—there was a problem with the electrics at the venue, so he had to be a bit more hands-on than usual sorting it all out.”
Lance, dealing with electricals? Crystals and mystical energies seemed more his speed.
“But,” Phil went on, “Vi’s got no one who can vouch for where she was in those vital minutes when her stepmum was killed. What if they’re in on it together? She calls you to the house, tells him it’s his turn to do the dirty work, and then, because it’s his first time and it’s dark, or you get a tingle from your spidey-senses, whatever, he botches it.”
Shit. Suddenly I was even more glad I was here with Phil instead of sat on my arse at home while he put himself in danger. But— “Alex wouldn’t confess to save Lance.”
“If Lance goes down, so does Vi. And maybe he doesn’t know Lance is involved.”
Well, to be honest, neither did we, for sure. “Could’ve been Vi both times,” I said, though I didn’t want to believe it.
Phil shook his head. “Just doesn’t ring true for me. Too risky—you said you’d told her I’d know where you were and who’d called you out—and if she’d wanted to kill you, why not do it earlier, while you were busy fixing her plumbing? She could have strangled you while you were distracted, then shifted the body outside.”
I shuddered. “I’d have known it was her,” I reminded him.
He looked grim. “Not for long, most likely. You hungry?”
“Too right.” Actually, what I really wanted right now was a drink. Say, a nice warm mug of lemon tea with honey.
Sod it.
We found a pub in the village that did food and grabbed a table. Phil ordered (soup for me; fish and chips for him, the lucky bastard) and brought the drinks over. My iced water went down like nectar from the gods, and the soup, when it came, wasn’t bad either. I very nearly ended up wearing it, mind, having absentmindedly taken off my sunglasses and almost frightened the waitress to death.
“It’s contact lenses, innit?” she said, her hand pressed to her ample chest after she’d got the food safely on the table. “For Halloween?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Ooh, you’ve even got the creepy voice. Oh, that’s great, that is. Enjoy your meals.”
After all that, I was kind of surprised I did.
“What’s next?” I asked as Phil finished up his chips. I’d nicked one or two, but they were a bit on the crunchy side to go down smoothly.
“I’m taking you home. You need to rest.”
“Bollocks. I’m fine.” Thanks to the soup, it actually came out sounding reasonably human.
Phil gave me a half-convinced look. “Well . . . if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” Still fairly normal. I was on a roll.
Heh. Soup and a roll.
“Then how about we go looking for some spiritual guidance?”
Toby’s house in the country, only a hop, skip, and a jump away from Lance’s place, was a bit disappointing, to be honest. I mean, bishops are supposed to live in palaces, right? Princes of the church and all that bollocks.
On current evidence, Toby’s church must’ve gone republican.
